At that moment, I was certain that we all shared a genuine sense of happiness for Prince Gilbert. For someone who had faced setbacks and yet had never ceased to strive forward, his triumph was not only sweet but richly deserved. Though this milestone might merely represent the starting line for him, it did not diminish the significance of his achievement. I was glad—so glad that his relentless efforts had at last been recognized.
As we offered our congratulations, Prince Gilbert was overcome with emotion and began to cry in earnest. I understood his tears; after enduring one challenge after another, to finally step onto the path he was meant to walk must have felt overwhelming. I was certain no one in the room thought any less of him for showing his emotions so openly.
We allowed the crown prince to embrace his moment fully, and soon, drinks and refreshments were brought in. With the entire imperial family gathered, what began as a meeting had transformed into a modest yet heartfelt impromptu celebration. We indulged in food and libations, and by the time the gathering had concluded, the night had deepened considerably. It seemed my stated intention of a full night’s sleep ahead of all of us had been woefully premature, but the joy of the evening was undeniable. While I knew I might regret the lack of rest come morning, I couldn’t help but admit that the celebration had been thoroughly enjoyable.
The next morning, I stifled yawn after yawn as we assembled in the castle hall, the space that had been designated for our departure. Our small group was joined by an impressive array of spectators: government officials and aristocrats keen to witness the Saint off to her first ceremonial occasion, as well as magical authorities eager to observe a rare display of teleportation magic. Noticeably absent, however, were the emperor and empress. I reminded myself not to feel disappointed; they had their own demanding schedules and had already spent the previous evening celebrating with us.
“Final checks are complete—Saint Carolina and His Highness, this way, if you would please,” Teodore directed, laying down the magic circle at his feet. Ed and I, dressed in light coats and flanked by our attendants and guards, stepped forward. Then, Ed, Marisa, Owen, and I broke off from the group, positioned ourselves around the circle, and looked to Teodore to continue.
“For your safety, hold tightly to the hands of the people next to you. Do not let go until the teleportation is complete,” he instructed.
His cautions remained the same as on previous trips via teleportation. Giving him a nod, I took Ed’s and Marisa’s hands, squeezing them tightly, reassured by their warm, solid presence.
Teodore took a moment to ensure everyone was securely linked together, then meticulously proceeded through his checklist. When each and every detail had been set, he announced, “Teleportation commencing,” and his energy levels visibly surged. A soft breeze stirred around him, rustling our coats and cloaks, as the soft pressure of magic enveloped us, creating a palpable tension among the onlookers.
The magic circle vibrated with the force of Teodore’s power, growing increasingly brilliant under the focus of his magic until it was too intense to behold directly.
“We are teleporting...now!” The light engulfed us, and I reflexively closed my eyes. A minute passed in a soundless, blinding blur. As the magic finally receded, my senses were greeted by the sweet fragrance of perfume and the bustling sounds of people around us. Then, a familiar voice broke through:
“Saint Carolina Ruby Martinez, Prince Edward Ruby Martinez—the Kingdom of Celestia welcomes you.”
I opened my eyes and there he was—King Nathan Phillips. And beside him was my father, along with a bevy of retainers and advisers. The welcoming party approached us briskly; they seemed to have waited at the periphery of the grand hall to give us ample extra space in case the teleportation had gone awry. Along the hall’s edges, I noticed a small contingent of Pyreborn knights, and a wave of relief washed over me knowing they had arrived safely.
Under normal circumstances, entering another country would have required a thorough customs process, but it appeared that King Phillips had graciously waived these formalities for our arrival. Taking a moment to admire the familiar hall, adorned with stained glass and opulent chandeliers, I let go of the hands beside me. Ed and I stepped forward to greet King Phillips.
“Thank you for this heartfelt welcome, Your Majesty,” I said, striving to match the occasion with the formality of my gratitude. “It is an honor to be received personally by the king of Celestia.”
“It is I who is honored, Lady Saint,” King Phillips responded warmly. “To witness your first official duty as the Saint is truly a blessing—in more ways than one.” He then gave me a wink and a knowing smile.
Yes, I’m sure it is, with all the international support the Faith Council was able to solicit for Celestia in its time of need, I mused. King Phillips appeared...well, like a king no longer burdened by grave concerns for his kingdom’s future. (Though I had to admit that I couldn’t help but miss what had been a slight and welcome tempering of his exuberance.)
“We shall strive to fulfill your every need during your short stay with us. Just say the word, and it shall be arranged,” King Phillips added.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I responded, lifting the hem of my skirts to perform a small yet respectful curtsy. As I endeavored to maintain the dignity expected of both my station and my status as a representative of the church, my gaze inadvertently met that of my father, who was standing just behind the king. His expression briefly darkened before he awkwardly looked away. Was he still troubled by the incident with Flora? Knowing him, his first instinct had likely been to blame himself. I understood he would harbor complex feelings about the matter, given that he was our only remaining parent, but I hoped he wouldn’t be too judgmental of himself.
My thoughts almost immediately drifted to my own shortcomings, and as I stood there pondering whether this was my fault for not addressing my issues with Flora sooner, the king spoke up again.
“Please, you all must be very tired from your journey. Allow us to show you to your quarters. Raymond, would you do the honors?”
Although this was a duty traditionally reserved for a chamberlain, he named my father for the task instead. He was clearly trying to be considerate. Though my father and I had met just weeks earlier, there was no guarantee of when we might meet again.
“Raymond?” King Phillips, prompted, noticing that his prime minister was responding in an unusually hesitant manner.
Finally, my father nodded and said in a low voice, “Yes, Your Majesty.” It was evident he had his reservations, but he couldn’t refuse a direct request from his king. “This way, Your Highnesses,” he added, motioning for us to follow. I gave him a nod and we filed out of the audience chamber.
As we walked down the castle corridor, I couldn’t help but think my father was maintaining his distance, walking far ahead of us, and the thought made me feel unexpectedly sad. The silence between us grew heavy, and unable to bear it any longer, I ventured cautiously, “How’s Flora, Father?” Almost immediately, I regretted my choice of inquiry, but the question was already hanging in the air.
Father glanced back at us. “She shows little interest in leaving her room, which is perhaps for the best, as she’s been confined to her chambers. She won’t speak to me. I’ve tried knocking, sliding letters under her door, but...nothing,” he confessed.
“I see,” I murmured softly. It seemed Flora was accepting her punishment with more resignation than I had anticipated. I had expected her to try to cajole a lesser punishment out of Father or perhaps to escalate matters further, but it appeared from her behavior that she was genuinely remorseful.
Though it’s Flora, so I shouldn’t be too quick to lower my guard...
The phrase “it’s always calmest before the storm” flashed through my mind, leading me to shrug internally. As I pondered what Flora might be thinking, my father’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Normally, I wouldn’t have respected her wishes and would have barged in to speak with her, but I’m...giving us both some space for now. I think we both need time to cool down and reflect. I apologize, Your Highness—you tasked me with guiding your sister, and I feel I’ve fallen short of that duty.”
“No, no, not at all. These things take time, I’m well aware!” I waved my hands in front of my chest dismissively. “And you’re a busy man, Father, I know that better than anyone!”
“No,” he interjected firmly and without pause. “I am done using my work as an excuse. If I fall back on that, then nothing has truly changed.” His fist clenched as he spoke.
He was committed to refusing to lecture Flora on her need to change unless he himself did the same—an attitude I both respected and expected from him. Abruptly, he halted and turned to face us directly. “I will facilitate Flora’s eventual reformation, but for now, I must beg for your patience,” he declared, his emerald eyes sparkling with a firm resolve, which dimmed as he bowed deeply.
Moved by his sincerity, my heart swelled and I nodded firmly. “Then you shall have it,” I said. “Just don’t be too hard on yourself, Father.”
“Thank you.”
Father smiled thinly at me, then resumed walking, now at much closer quarters to us. My eyes crinkled; it was a subtle change, but the fact that I could reach out and touch him now—oh, what a world of difference it made. Buffeted by joy and relief, I allowed my tense features to relax as we continued to our chambers. Though reluctant to part ways, I knew Father had other responsibilities to attend to, so we said our goodbyes as we reached the door.
I watched his retreating back until he rounded the corner, admiring his steely resolve as one befitting both a prime minister...and my father.